


unraveling

by tsunderegraham



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Ficlet, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, M/M, Mentioned Mischa Lecter, Oblivious Will Graham, Pining Hannibal Lecter, hannibal deals with his feels, or is he???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:01:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27336847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunderegraham/pseuds/tsunderegraham
Summary: Hannibal's feelings for Will Graham deal a blow to his finely crafted veneer.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	unraveling

“Thank you again for the ride, Will,” Hannibal said. “I do hope I wasn’t too out of the way.”

Will waved him off. “You think I’d make you walk home in _dress shoes?”_

“Well, I appreciate it.” Hannibal let out a warm laugh but immediately became shy. He stared ahead at the road but could feel Will’s eyes burning into him. Hannibal wondered if Will was expecting an invitation inside before it occurred to him that Will was probably just waiting for him to get out of the car. He went with the latter and unfastened his seatbelt.

“Hannibal?”

Hannibal froze. “Yes, Will?”

“I really enjoyed today. Thank you.”

“I did, too.” He wanted to look at Will but was afraid. There was a lot of stock in Will’s empath skills, and Hannibal himself was unsure what Will might read in his eyes.

Nevertheless, Hannibal turned to face him. Will was already staring back. Hannibal looked into Will’s blue eyes for a long minute before he registered that Will was smiling.

“Have a good night, Hannibal.”

“You too, Will.”

Hannibal nearly tumbled out of the car and up the cobblestone path to his front door. At the last minute he had to turn around and jog back to retrieve a piece of trash he’d absentmindedly left on the side of the passenger door.

“Oh,” Will laughed. “I could’ve gotten that.” Was Will always this friendly on weekends? Or maybe Hannibal had something to do with it. He wrestled with another split second of indecision over inviting Will inside, but Will was already shifting the car into drive.

Will still waited for him to step through the front door before driving off.

When Hannibal got inside, he left his shoes in the foyer and went straight to the kitchen to put the kettle on. A cup of chamomile would calm him down for the rest of the evening. But why wasn’t he calm?

He laid his suit jacket over a chair at the nook table and sat. His shoes were still in the foyer. There was a feeling in his chest like an ache, a swelling sensation that rippled down to his toes and out to his fingers when he closed his eyes. It wasn’t unfamiliar, but it had been a long time since he last felt it.

He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. His neatly gelled fringe fell over his forehead and he let the hair part through his fingers. There was no mistaking it anymore. He had feelings for Will Graham.

_How long?_ He had an answer before the voice in his head had even asked. Hannibal had fallen for Will the moment they met. But he’d also brushed it off the way he would if it were anybody else. _No time for relationships, not with your lifestyle. Just keep it professional._ The problem with Will was—well, as much as Hannibal tried, he hated to keep his distance or keep their conversations ordinary. And as little as Will gave him in return—sometimes nothing more than a quick glance or a feigned enthusiastic response—Hannibal still fell for him again and again and again.

Worse yet, he could sense they were growing closer. Despite his reticence Will still regarded him with an ease only a friend would, and Hannibal did not have many friends so he indulged it. So badly he had wanted to invite Will inside after the events of the evening. He wished he could hang Will’s coat at the door and pour tea for two and listen to the younger man talk about his life. Then his thoughts traveled elsewhere and he ached in other places.

The kettle whistled, startling him. He was grateful for the reprieve from his thoughts. He poured his cup shakily and brought it with a saucer to his seat at the table. Finally he remembered his shoes. He went out to the foyer and returned them to the closet and then sat again, limp with his hands in his lap. Steam snaked from the cup and he watched the rivulets rise and disappear.

_This isn’t like you, Hannibal._ There was that voice in his head again. Was it Mischa? He suddenly felt silly, discussing romantic whims with his dead sister. They spoke together often in his mind, and he brought up Will many times. Somehow he suspected she already understood this better than he did. He found himself straining his ears in wait of what she would say next, but nothing else came.

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted to [tumblr](http://yandere-lecter.tumblr.com), where you can find me yelling about these two in less coherent ways!


End file.
